


Trust

by alifeasvivid



Series: Trust Universe [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Bondage, Chastity Device, M/M, Married Sex, Orgasm Denial, Praise Kink, Sounding, UKUS, dom!Arthur, dom/sub without sadomasochism, sub!alfred, very decidedly UKUS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-25 20:30:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18582043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alifeasvivid/pseuds/alifeasvivid
Summary: Arthur can hardly help the smile that tugs on his lips as he remembers how most of his previous lovers and submissives had gotten him sweets he likes or gifts he had suggested for his birthdays, whereas Alfred begged to be tortured with orgasm denial…Alfred and Arthur have been married for a few years and are ridiculously in love and Alfred knows exactly what to get Arthur for his birthday.





	Trust

**Author's Note:**

> *the sounding/CBT parts are not graphic. Actually, the whole thing turned out more emotional and less graphic than I really intended it too. I think it works this way.
> 
> **Not precisely accurate, highly romanticized, highly idealized BDSM without punishment or humiliation kink.

Arthur Jones-Kirkland sits in the high-backed armchair in the corner of the bedroom, legs crossed. The top three buttons of his crisp collared shirt are undone and his tie has already been discarded, but other than that he is sharply dressed as always. He idly twirls a little remote between his fingers as he gazes fascinated at the scene in front of him. He occasionally hums sweetly in response to the desperate gasps, strangled moans, happy sighs, and broken attempts at his name emanating from the bed. Arthur wonders why he ever used to gag his husband during play when his voice is so enchanting.

Of course, the collar which has replaced the gag is tight enough that said husband can feel it, but not so tight that it restricts his breathing or his ability to speak. At the moment, his whimpering and panting is enough for him.

Although, forming proper words would still be difficult for him given the entirety of the situation.

Alfred Jones-Kirkland kneels on the bed, knees spread far apart. He is entirely naked, except for the collar. His hands are bound together with cuffs which are attached by a heavy chain to a device mounted on the ceiling so that he is effectively dangling by his wrists hoisted above his head, arms fully extended. Alfred designed and machined the device himself in such a way that he can pull on it at a certain angle to release himself or give himself slack if he needs it, but he doesn’t. He trusts his wonderful husband to be in control of him.

Alfred whimpers and moans each time Arthur changes the setting on the vibrator inside of him; the only other sound in the room comes from the stainless steel chain links clinking as Alfred spasms involuntarily and tries to steady himself after each jolt. Arthur has been edging him for hours now, using little more than a riding crop, the extremely versatile vibrator, sweet honeyed words, and… well…

“How is it, love? Have you been enjoying your new toy?” Arthur asks mildly, referring to the cherry on top of his Alfred sundae: a brand new chastity device.

The previous cage had gotten too worn to use safely and Arthur had not given any indication that he planned to get a new one. Of course, he was never not going to replace it, but it had been more entertaining to insinuate that he might not and revel in Alfred’s failed attempts at subtlety with his begging (he had even gone as far as to place several such items in Arthur’s Amazon shopping cart, the cheeky git). The new one is metal, as was the old one, but it has a few delightful additions. The old one was very simple, but this device secures tightly not only around the base of Alfred’s cock, but also his sac and is equipped with a sounding rod.

Alfred has been so torturously close and yet so far from release for so long now that his body has given up on the whole concept of orgasm and has instead fallen into the blissful torment Arthur is inflicting on him. He hears Arthur chuckle, but doesn’t have the strength to lift his head at the moment. His cock twitches meekly, sending a bright burst of acute awareness through his body to remind him of the rod and he can’t help the loud, wanton moan that escapes him. “Arthurrrr,” he whines.

Arthur rises from his chair and rolls up his sleeves, a grin playing on his lips. He remembers once preferring that his submissives refer to him as “Master,” but Alfred had insisted it was far too formal, that he wanted them to still be themselves during play and has since proven that he is more than capable of leaving play in the playroom without the need for that kind of delineation. Now, Arthur revels in hearing Alfred address him by name during play.

He stands at the foot of the bed, briefly palming his erection through his trousers and shivering as a rush of simmering desire races through him, fed by the exercise of control—not only over Alfred, but over himself. Although, it hasn’t been this easy to push Alfred this far in awhile and he is truly a sight to behold.

Alfred blinks at Arthur, tries to look at him, but Arthur has removed his glasses and placed them out of the way. Even if he were still wearing them, they’d be fogged over from sweat and heat and even if he had perfect vision, it would be bleary at this point what with every pulse of blood through his veins, every hitch of his muscles, every labored breath reminding him of the vibrator against his prostate and the cage preventing an erection and the exquisite fullness of the steel shaft penetrating his cock.

On the other hand, Arthur can see Alfred perfectly well. His normally clear blue eyes are alternately squeezed shut or fluttering open. His honey blond hair is damp and in complete disarray, always a nice change from its enviable manageability. His cheeks are flushed all the way up to the tips of his ears. His skin is marked with cute, red welts where Arthur had struck him earlier with the crop. His stunningly perfect body trembles: his strong arms taut and straining against their bindings, his chest rising and falling as he gasps, his abdominal muscles jumping and twitching in sensitivity.

“And what do you say to me for such a nice surprise?” Arthur demands, just a little bit teasingly. He can hardly help it with the smile that tugs on his lips as he remembers how most of his previous lovers and submissives had gotten him sweets he likes or gifts he had suggested for his birthdays, whereas Alfred begged to be tortured with orgasm denial… that sort of willingness is precisely why Arthur had said yes when Alfred proposed a few years ago.

There had obviously been many other reasons as well, like the fact that they had been madly in love for months (and have continued to be so ever since) and that Arthur had been planning to propose the following night and Alfred beat him to it.

“Well?” Arthur prompts as he begins unbuttoning his shirt, as if the erratic jerking of Alfred’s hips combined with his confined and stuffed cock dripping helplessly with pre-cum combined with the expression of absolute ecstasy on his face weren’t enough to indicate the answer. Arthur’s own arousal throbs and his fingers itch to touch Alfred’s skin. “Alfred, darling. What do you say?” he says, brushing his thumb over the buttons of the vibrator’s remote.

Arthur’s tranquil English accent makes it easy to want to do what he says; the collar makes it hard to actually do it. Alfred swallows as best he can to clear his throat. “Th-thank—AH! ARTHUR!” he cries out when Arthur turns the vibrator up to the highest setting. Alfred outright sobs in pleasure, utterly lost as tears stream down his cheeks from the intensity of it all. It’s so good. It’s so, so good. No one has ever made him feel the way Arthur does, no one else has ever given him what he hadn’t known he needed so badly.

“I’ll accept that as a satisfactory response,” Arthur says genially, decreasing the power level on the vibrator. “Particularly since you sound so delightful when you cry out like that.”

“Mmmph,” Alfred whines from the sudden shift of the toy. “A-Arthur. Please.”

Arthur dips one knee onto the bed and leans in as close as he can, watching fascinated as Alfred’s blue and delirious eyes try to focus on him. “What do you need, love?”

All Alfred can see is the purest, brightest green. The chains clink above him, though he’s only vaguely aware of his own movements anymore. “Hands,” he chokes out. “Touch.”

Arthur reaches up and unclasps the collar, but holds it in place. “You need me to touch you, darling?”

A nod.

“Alright. I’m going to remove your collar now. Breathe with me.” Arthur inhales and exhales audibly, slowly, steadily and watches carefully as Alfred does his best to match. Gently, Arthur removes the cuff from around Alfred’s neck. “Very good,” he says as Alfred continues taking deep breaths.

Tension rushes out then floods back into Alfred’s body. Arthur’s hands reach up to cup the sides of his jaw, caress him soothingly, and then brush back through his hair. His hips arch unconsciously toward Arthur, though the man himself is not close enough for Alfred to reach. He notices when Arthur turns down the vibrator until it is all the way off, but this only fuels his anticipation that much more.

“You’re doing wonderfully, Alfred.” Arthur says before returning to the chair and taking off his shirt, draping it over the back. He sheds his socks and removes his belt as well, winding it around his hands momentarily before deciding against using it for anything; Arthur is well-versed in his husband’s limits and Alfred is already so overstimulated that a spanking would most likely do actual harm to him. Arthur lingers a moment longer to appreciate Alfred’s ravaged state. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

Something similar to relief washes over Alfred, like a parched mouth receiving a cool drink. Hearing Arthur praise him is what he loves more than anything… that, and of course Arthur’s hands on his body and Arthur having control over him like with the cage and the bindings and Arthur’s cock as far inside of him as possible and… everything. Alfred loves Arthur more than anything. “A-Arth—”

“I know, love, I’ll be right there.” Arthur slides gracefully onto the bed behind Alfred, placing one hand on Alfred’s hip and using the other to cradle Alfred’s chin and tilt his head back. He plants kisses all over Alfred’s cheek before nipping Alfred’s earlobe. “That’s better, isn’t it?” Arthur releases Alfred’s chin and moves both of his hands over Alfred’s heaving chest, stopping occasionally to pinch his nipples in time with another bite to whatever part of Alfred’s shoulder he can reach. His movements are consistent and deliberate, gentle but insistent and he relishes the way Alfred quivers and shakes under his fingertips.

Alfred all but loses his ability to form thought at all, let alone coherent words. He is lost to himself, but safe in Arthur’s hands. To finally be touched, to feel Arthur’s chest against his back, to feel his hands all over, to feel lips, teeth, and tongue on his neck sends electric crackles of decadent pain followed by soothing rivers of unfathomable bliss through his body that liquify his brain, turning it into formless ether and sparkling stars.

Arthur’s voice, clear and sober, less honeyed, cuts through as his hands caress Alfred’s arms. “Alfred. Are you still alright?” he asks pointedly.

“Y-yes. Oh god, Arthur,” Alfred groans as Arthur massages feeling back into his sore muscles.

“Good,” Arthur murmurs. He rubs Alfred’s wrists at the cuffs and then trails his hands back down, reveling in Alfred’s cool, sweat-damp skin as he goes. He slowly, cautiously removes the toy from Alfred’s arse. It slides out with a soft pop and a winded hiccup from Alfred. “Look at you. So bloody gorgeous,” he mumbles roughly while sliding his fingers in to replace the toy. He’s certainly not any less affected by their play than Alfred is. “You’re so good. Seeing you like this… it’s—” Arthur’s free hand cups Alfred’s jaw again, turning his head so that Arthur can kiss him, messily, passionately, unrelentingly.

Physically incapable of active response for several reasons, Alfred’s lips part passively, allowing Arthur to have his fill of him. He whines, the line of his body bending in unthinking pursuit of more contact with Arthur.

Arthur breaks the kiss entirely, rising up further on his knees to gain leverage. One hand now snakes around Alfred’s neck, expertly squeezing just so. “You give yourself up so easily to me, it’s truly sublime. Such a wanton thing you are,” he purrs. “You don’t even want to come, do you? You’d wear that little thing every day if I let you.”

Alfred nods as the last of his brain melts at Arthur’s words and oozes down his spine like molten lava. “Mm, yeah. That—that sounds so good, please.”

Arthur says nothing, though he is certain the device will have to come off soon. His hands glide across the twitching muscles of Alfred’s abdomen and down, gently cupping Alfred’s sac.

Alfred jolts violently as Arthur’s hand closes softly around him and he screams, “Yel—yell—AH!”

Arthur immediately reacts to hearing the word he knows Alfred is trying to say: yellow. He eases his hand away to prevent any injury. It is as he suspected. The previous device could be worn much longer, but it seems the time has run out on this one for this evening’s scene. “Too much?”

Alfred nods, can do nothing more than nod, his body tense with a different kind of pain, one that threatens to shatter his state of rapture.

Arthur’s palm splays over Alfred’s navel and he hums soothingly in Alfred’s ear. “Shh, shh, my love. That’s good. You’re doing so well, just like always. You’re so good for me. I love you so much, Alfred. I need to take that off now, alright? Do your best to hold still.”

Again, Alfred can only nod.

Arthur’s fingers make quick work of the locking mechanisms and with the utmost attentiveness, he frees Alfred’s cock from its prison, gingerly pulling the rod out, millimeter by millimeter.

Alfred makes no sound when the rod is finally out, he only tenses and struggles to breathe.

Arthur lightly tosses the device to the side and immediately wraps his hand around Alfred’s neck once more, applying no pressure this time. His other hand presses flat against Alfred’s stomach near his diaphragm. “There, there, love. Breathe with me.” Again, Arthur breathes slowly, steadily. Encouraging Alfred to breathe against his hand forces him to breathe deeply from the bottom of his lungs, rather than shallow, hitched breaths from the top.

Despite the overwhelming energy of it all, Alfred savors the feeling of finally being free and the feeling of being suspended in Arthur’s devoted control.

Once Alfred’s breathing is even, Arthur shifts on the bed to be able to check him over. He’s certain Alfred is fine; they have practiced sounding before, but Alfred’s safety is always a primary concern. Upon finding no visible evidence of injury, Arthur straightens on his knees until he is eye-level with Alfred. “Alfred, darling. Look at me.”

Alfred blinks and grins sloppily at Arthur.

“Are you alright?”

Alfred’s brow furrows momentarily. “Hurts.”

“Good hurt or bad hurt?”

The sloppy grin returns. “Goooood. It’s so good, Arthur,” Alfred winces slightly, hissing through his teeth as his cock begins to harden. “Ohhhhhhh,” he moans, “So good.”

Arthur’s own erection twitches in response. Clearly, it’s time for Alfred to come down from the ceiling. “Lewd boy. Let’s get you down then. I want to fuck you until you scream.”

Alfred’s head begins to clear slightly now that the onslaught of sensations has ebbed and Arthur has drawn attention to the stiffness in his muscles. The clarity brings a pleasant and exhausted soreness along with an empty feeling, both of which will only be sated by Arthur filling him.

Arthur stands on the mattress and is about to detach the chain from Alfred’s ingenious device (he’s so lucky his husband is a brilliant mechanical engineer) when he feels pressure against his crotch. He looks down to see Alfred nuzzling the front of his trousers and Arthur would chastise his impertinence, but he has barely touched himself since they began and Alfred is admittedly very cute in the way he murmurs and sighs and gazes up at Arthur the way he always does: like Arthur is his entire world. “Christ, you’re insatiable,” he chides teasingly.

Alfred takes this as encouragement more than anything else. “You love it though.”

“Of course I do, but that’s enough. Let me get you down.” Arthur softly, but briefly strokes Alfred’s hair when he obeys. He releases the chain and holds it, gradually lowering Alfred’s arms as he kneels back down. He then detaches the chain from the cuffs binding Alfred’s wrists. He guides Alfred to lie back, placing a pillow under his arse. “Alright there, love?”

Alfred bends his elbows and holds his wrists over his chest. It’s an extremely painful relief, one that spreads through his entire body as tension washes away. “Y-yeah. Arthur. Please.”

Arthur leans over Alfred, bracing his hands on either side of his husband’s sweat-damp head and appraises him. His lips are parted; his breathing is even; his fingers are flexing like he wants to reach out; his cock is half-erect and that’s probably about as hard as it will get, given the abuse it has suffered. It’s difficult to tell if the strawberry-shaped welts from before have faded or if Alfred’s skin is just that flushed. It’s difficult to tell if his sky blue eyes are clear with lucidity or adrenaline. It’s impossible to tell if he’s an angel sent to dote on Arthur or a demon sent to indulge his every sinful thought. Arthur doesn’t care either way because it’s impossible to think that he could love Alfred anymore than he does in this moment, but it’s entirely probable that Alfred will do something to make Arthur love him more tomorrow and every day after.

Alfred squirms. That look. That hungry, worshipping, wild gleam Arthur gets in his eyes when he looks at Alfred is why Alfred sometimes prefers to be blindfolded. Right now though, that look only makes his heart swell and his body beg to be filled. “Arthur” he whines, “please.”

Arthur ducks his head and kisses Alfred fiercely, not giving him a single second to catch up, biting at Alfred’s lips and tongue until he’s a breathless mess all over again. He undoes his trousers and kicks them off with little concern for where they end up. Reaching over Alfred to the table next to the bed, Arthur flicks off the lid that was loosely covering the jar of lubricant and dips his fingers into it. He warms it, smearing it over his fingertips before sliding two of them into Alfred. He strokes and massages Alfred’s inner walls, angling himself to nuzzle Alfred’s face and neck. “Is this what you want, love?”

Alfred cants his hips, trying to sink further onto Arthur’s fingers, even knowing Arthur is deliberately avoiding it. Restlessness consumes and all he can do is emphatically shake is head.

“No?” Arthur asks teasingly. He won’t be able to deny Alfred much longer; they are both impatient now. His cock throbs urgently, desperate to be buried deep inside of his ravished lover. He kisses Alfred’s forehead. “What do you need, Alfred?” he asks, even as he dips into the jar again. He groans as he wraps his hand around his own arousal, slicking it up and down.

“You,” Alfred rasps when Arthur forehead falls against the crook of his neck. “You, you, you, you…” he sobs until it trails off into nonsense. Alfred shivers as Arthur’s palms smooth over his thighs, spreading his legs farther apart.

“Yes. Yes, darling, anything you want.” Arthur grips the base of his cock, positioning it at Alfred’s entrance before pressing in languidly. “It’s alright, I’ve— _oh god, Alfred_ —I’ve got you. Bloody hell,” Arthur growls as he settles into Alfred’s body, Alfred’s walls fluttering and spasming around him. Rather than move, he kisses Alfred all over his face, not ready to let go of the feeling of just being surrounded.

“Please,” Alfred begs, too tired and sore to even try and encourage Arthur to move, but he needs it. He needs Arthur to fuck him like this. The relentless pleasure has sent him drifting away from himself and now Alfred feels like the only thing anchoring him to reality is Arthur’s body joined to his.

Arthur pulls halfway out and rocks back in, and then again, then again, setting an unhurried pace and petting Alfred’s hair. They’ll both need a good wash after this. He rolls his hips languorously, drinking in Alfred’s gasps which punctuate his rhythm. “You’ve no right to be this perfect,” Arthur admonishes, but the words are drenched in sweet syrup.

Alfred tosses his head back, lying limp and flexible as a doll as Arthur hooks one of Alfred’s legs over his shoulder. The new position shifts the angle of Arthur’s cock so that he strikes Alfred’s over-stimulated prostate with almost every thrust. “A-ah! AH!” Alfred shudders and loops his bound wrists around Arthur’s neck, spine bending like an archer’s bow. “Y—you should t-talk,” is what he tries to say, but he can’t be sure how much of it came out in recognizable language.

Arthur thrusts into Alfred faster, continuing to brush against the most sensitive parts of him with almost lethal accuracy. “Oh, my love, I was merely made to worship you.” He moves faster still and tilts his head to dust scorching, open-mouthed kisses over Alfred’s collarbone. “Come for me, Alfred.”

Alfred’s body seizes as his abused and exhausted cock spends weakly over his abdomen, but even still he sees fireworks. Green ones, bright and amazed. “Your turn,” he mumbles, drawing his hands back down to his chest and almost smirking. His wrists are so sore.

Arthur chuckles once, but the sound doesn’t really make it out of his head. He pumps in and out a few more times, admiring the sated grin on Alfred’s lips and the dazed loll of his head. That sight alone is the best gift Arthur has ever received. He comes then, filling Alfred. An offering. His orgasm is over quickly, wasn’t really the point to begin with, and now he needs to get Alfred back to himself.

Removing the cuffs from Alfred’s wrists, Arthur softly massages them. They’ll likely need to be iced later. Alfred giggles giddily as full circulation is restored to his fingers. Arthur turns him onto his side, making certain to keep as much pressure off of Alfred’s limbs as possible. It’s a comfortingly familiar, beautiful routine at this point. Arthur gets water for both of them to drink as well as mild painkillers for Alfred, cleans him off with a damp towel, and double checks him for injuries. He sets the toys aside, they can be cleaned later.

“Do you want to go to the bedroom or do you want to lie here for a little while?” Arthur asks.

“Here’s good. Just cuddle me,” Alfred responds. His eyes drift closed and he sighs as Arthur drapes a soft cotton blanket over him.

“Alright.” Arthur pulls on a pair of clean boxers and slides under the blanket to spoon Alfred. He holds his husband tightly and hooks his leg over Alfred’s hip, knowing the weight helps pull him back to Earth. He kisses Alfred’s shoulder and smiles to himself.

“Good birthday?” Alfred asks.

“Yes. Very good.”

“Thank god. ‘totally forgot about it. ‘didn’t know what to get you last minute,” Alfred mutters indistinctly.

“You’re incorrigible,” Arthur berates almost as sleepily.

“Made you happy, though, right? I made you happy?”

“Yes, darling, you’re wonderful. Your trust in me is the finest gift I have ever received and I cherish it.”

Alfred grumbles quietly. “Don’t say that. How’m I gonna top it next year?”

Arthur laughs breathily. “I’m certain you’ll think of something.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing anything quite like this, so be kind. No criticism please, constructive or otherwise.


End file.
